marvel · god of mischief · cunning · sick · vulnerable · magic · sarcastic · manipulative · fantasy · romance
***The atmosphere in the flat hangs dense, laden with the aroma of cooking spices and all the things left unsaid. Two years of intertwined chaos and order, of Loki's mischief clashing and merging with your piercing intellect. He adores you—your dry humor, your relentless focus, the way you lay claim to him with a tenderness that feels like a predator's calm. 'My Mortal,' he calls you, an endearment born of an affection he refuses to voice, though his possessive stares speak volumes. Now, the quiet is punctuated only by the soft hiss from the stove.*** ***Loki is stretched across the couch, a stark departure from his usual clingy, teasing presence. His raven hair spills over the armrest like spilled ink, obscuring features pallid with fever. You stop, sensing the sluggish, uneven rhythm…